


You Will Still Be Here Tomorrow

by Lilas (pegasus_01)



Series: Wham Bam Shang-a-Lang [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pegasus_01/pseuds/Lilas
Summary: He floated in the vast nothingness of space with only the distant stars and the vestiges of his failure for company.Peter's thoughts as he waited for someone to pick him up after Ego.





	You Will Still Be Here Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the Marvel Universe! 
> 
> This movie was everything I wanted in a GotG sequel and one particular thing I did not want. But as sad as it made me, I thought it was beautifully handled and wouldn't change any of it.
> 
> Not beta'd. Please let me know if there are any mistakes! :)

He didn’t know how long it’d been now. How long he’d been holding on to the dark red jacket, simultaneously pulling it towards him and away, as if he were unsure whether to he wanted to bring it as close to him or as far away as possible. Had it been minutes? Hours? Time blurred and expanded, every second feeling like eternity as he stared at blood-red eyes turned milky-white and unseeing. It slowed and suffocated him as he stared at blue skin slowly frosting over with ice pellets, leeching away any color and softness that had existed beneath the scars. Peter didn’t know how long he’d been crying and screaming, clutching at the body that had once held the life of his kidnaper, his mentor, his d—He didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

He wasn’t sure if any of his friends even knew he was still alive. Did they know Yondu had an aero-rig and a spacesuit with him? Did they know that he’d been able to grab Peter and jet them through the atmosphere before Ego had imploded? Did they know he was waiting nearby with only the vestiges of his failure for company? 

He floated in the vast nothingness of space with only the distant stars and Yondu’s frozen body for company. His tears blurred everything around him, the endless silence only broken by fits of hiccups and sobs. His fists spasmed around the red jacket and he cried out again, giving voice to his anguish and pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_! How could he have been so stupid? How could he have never seen, never realized, what had always been right in front of him? How could he have been so blind, so misguided?

He could feel exhaustion pulling at him, the events of the last couple of day catching up to him, but he fought it off. If he let himself fall asleep, he’d lose his grip on the jacket, and then—

No. 

Yondu had taught him better than that. He sniffled and a sob escaped his lips again as his throat closed up and his eyes burned. His cheeks felt scratchy from his tears and he could feel his nose dripping, but there was nothing he could do about either of those things with the spacesuit still encasing him. He had an hour of oxygen, maybe less depending on which suit this was and the charge left in it. And then, he would be able to join Yondu. He’d be with his parents again. He’d be with his family again.

He paused at that, sniffing softly, feeling the dried tear tracks crack on his cheeks as he frowned. A memory tugged at him. Family… 

_I thought you already had_

Gamora’s words on Ego’s planet had been like a sucker punch to the guts. He realized now that he’d been blinded by his childhood fantasy. As soon as he’d allowed himself to believe, to accept that Ego was his father, that the man hadn’t had a choice when he’d abandoned him and his mom on Terra, he’d turned stupid. He’d ignored all of his instincts, which had been screaming at him ever since Ego stepped foot on Berhert, in favor of finally having a father. He’d thrown the last two months—no, the last 26 years—to the wayside in favor of playing catch with a man he had known for less than 48-hours. As if that alone made him his dad; as if that alone forgave him all of his sins.

As he lay on that sofa, staring up at the stars and listening to Brandy, those words had kept echoing in his head. Ever since the Ravagers had taken him and he’d realized aliens were real, all he had ever wanted was to find his father, to find his family. But those few words, that affirmation, had cut him to his core. They spoke volumes about Gamora and her thoughts on their ragtag team of wanna-bes. 

Family. 

_He may have been your father, boy_

He sniffed again, his hands clenching and unclenching on the red jacket as he slowly brought Yondu closer to him and buried his face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

_But he weren’t your daddy_

He’d told Gamora he used to imagine that his father was David Hasselhoff because he was cool and he had a talking car. But the truth was that it was easier, sometimes, to pretend that his dad was a famous and busy man out saving the world than a man who didn’t care, who didn’t give a rat’s ass about his mom and his son. Peter had just wanted someone to be there for him, to teach him how to fight, how to protect his loved ones, how to beat up the assholes of the world.

The truth was, that in the end, he’d gotten that. 

_I’m sorry I didn’t do none of it right_

Yondu hadn’t been the affectionate father Peter had always dreamed of having, the one who played catch with him and took him out for ice creams after a game; the one who protected him and his mom from the raging storm of life and held him when he was scared. But he had taken Peter at a point in his life when his world had been crumbling at the seams. Meredith was gone, and as much as he had loved his grandparents and aunts, he hadn’t wanted to live with them; he hadn’t wanted them. He had wanted his mom, and if he couldn’t have her, then he didn’t want anyone else. He knew, deep down, that if Yondu hadn’t taken him that night, he would have become a shell of what he was today. 

In the end, Yondu had saved him in more ways than one. He’d taken him away from the planet where he’d watched his mother die. He’d hidden him from Ego and given him a chance to grow up. He’d taught Peter how to fight dirty and how to shoot even dirtier so he could protect his loved ones from the assholes of the world. He had taught him how to shave, and he had taught him how to fly. He had taught him about girls, and bounties, and loyalty, and thieving. 

He had been patient when Peter had been a brat, and tough when Peter had been a conceited asshole of a teenager. But most of all he had been forgiving when Peter had double-crossed him more times than he could count as he struck out on his own. He had found someone to rig Peter’s Walkman so that it wouldn’t need batteries, and he’d somehow found trinkets from Terra to ease Peter’s homesickness. He hadn’t been perfect, not even been close, but without him, Peter knew he would have never become Star-Lord. Without Yondu to guide him, to mold him, to shape him, Peter would have never become a Guardian.

Without Yondu, Peter would have never found his rag-tag team of wanna-bes. His family. 

Peter clutched the red jacket tighter, burying his head even further into the crook of the cold, stiff neck. His sob was cut off when a light suddenly surrounded him and he felt the tug of a tractor beam pulling him in. He blinked the tears from his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, a shiver of relief running down his spine. They’d found him; they’d waited and come for him despite the odds. 

Peter stared at Yondu’s lifeless eyes as he was tugged backwards back into the _Eclector_. His grip on the jacket tightened and his mouth set into a determined line as he continued to sniff softly, his nose still running, but his eyes finally dry.

_I was lucky you were my boy._

“Thanks, dad. I was lucky to have you.”


End file.
